


The Language of Flowers

by Kelpie169



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 16:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13838253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelpie169/pseuds/Kelpie169
Summary: When someone uses flowers to try to woo Neville, it backfires on them just a little.





	The Language of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RuArcher (Coriesocks)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriesocks/gifts).



> This was written for the Fairest of the Rares Love Fest. It's unbeta'd so all mistakes (of which there are probably many) are my own. Sorry bout that.   
> Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, isn't mine and I make no money from anything.

“I’m going to do it!”

 

“Don’t do it, mate.”

 

The dark skinned man grinned at his friend and bounced slightly on his bed. “I must! I’ve lived with this inside me for too long! Now hang me the catalog!”

 

x . x . x . x . x 

 

The students made their way blearily to the Great Hall, some more awake than others as another day dawned at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Breakfast had begun some time ago and the stragglers settled at the tables, blinking tiredly as they began piling their plates with their morning meals.

 

“Hey look! It’s too early for the mail, isn’t it?” Dean’s voice carried over the Gryffindor table, drawing the attention of students, both wide awake and still slightly asleep as they gazed at the solitary owl swooping through the windows high up on the castle wall.

 

The bird searched for the recipient of it’s parcel, struggling slightly under its weight as it fell lower and lower toward the Lion’s table until it landed in front of-

 

“Neville?” Who’d be sending you something?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron as she helped her friend detach the gift wrapped package from the poor bird and fed it a bit of bacon. “Honestly, Ronald! Neville is a perfectly lovely person! Why wouldn’t be recieve gifts?”

 

Neville face flared a bright crimson, bright enough to match his robes as he turned the package round and round. “Hermione?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper as he leaned in toward her. “There isn’t a note. What if this is some sort of prank?”

 

The girl’s heart broke for her friend, though she fought back the pity and just laid a hand on her shoulder. “Neville, I doubt it’s a prank. I’ll cast some detection charms, just to be sure though. Give me a moment.”

 

She waved her wand, satisfied a few seconds later when nothing turned up. “See? It’s safe. Go ahead and open it.”

 

His hands shook as he pulled at the beautifully curled ribbon and unfurled the shiny red paper to see-

 

“Someone got you flowers, mate?”

 

Seamus stifled a laugh as Hermione leaned over and kicked him under the table. Harry and Ron glanced down from their spots a little way down the table and smiled at Neville, clearly unperturbed by a male friend receiving flowers. 

 

“Those are lovely, Nev. A nice Gryffindor red. Whoever sent them must really like you.” Harry complimented. Neville’s spine straightened just a tad and Hermione shot a grateful look at Harry who gave her a subtle wink. “My Aunt used to grow those and I’m sure you could find a way to imbue them with some magic. Geraniums are notoriously hard to grow-”

 

“Wait, geraniums?! Oh shite, mate!” The entirety of the Gryffindor table turned to Ron as he burst out laughing, slapping the table in his mirth as bits of half masticated food fell out of his mouth. “Whoever sent you those thinks you’re an idiot! Geraniums mean stupidity! Flower language and all that shite! Ow! Hermione what are you kicking me for?!?”

 

x . x . x . x . x

 

“Well, that went well.”

 

“How was I supposed to know there’s a  _ language of bloody flowers _ ?” The dark skinned man paced the floor of his dormitory frantically. “What do I do?”

 

“How do I know? Do I look like a bloody ponce to you?”

 

“Well, now that you mention it…”

 

x . x . x . x . x

 

The next day the cycle repeated itself.

 

“Hermione, I’m scared.”

 

Neville stared at the owl with the wrapped parcel attached to its feet, clearly wanting to be relieved of its burden, though he made no move to do so. After a full minute of watching him, Hermione rolled her eyes and took pity on the poor creature. 

 

“Neville, I understand that yesterday was embarrassing. But did you ever stop to think that maybe since  _ you  _ didn’t know that there was a language of flowers, that  _ they _ didn’t either?”

 

By the look on his face, obviously that thought had never occurred to him.

 

“You know what they means, right?” Ron asked as he waved a sausage around on the end of his fork and flashing bits of chewed food. Hermione and Neville’s noses wrinkled in distaste. “It’s a bloke sending you the flowers. Only the girls in our world learn these things.”

 

“That’s...an astute observation, Ronald.”

 

“A what?”

 

Hermione ignored his question as she turned to Neville. “This is perfect! Because now you don’t have to let some poor unsuspecting girl who’s in love with you down gently!”

 

Neville’s eyes were wide and terrified as he stuttered out incoherently.

 

“Oh, don’t worry Nev. We all know you’re gay. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just look at Dean and Seamus.” Neville’s head started to turn at Harry’s words, but Harry just shot a hand out to block his view. “Well, don’t  _ actually  _ look at the moment unless you want to be scarred for life, but you get my meaning.”

 

“You all knew?”

 

Hermione smiled gently. “Yup. And we didn’t care. So-do you want to open your package now?”

 

With a much straighter spine and a smile on his face, Neville pulled the hot pink wrapping on his newest package apart and stared down at the fuschia flowers. “Foxgloves. Know what these mean, Ron?”

 

“Uh…” The redhead’s face scrunched up in thought for a moment. “Insincerity.”

 

Neville’s face fell slightly. “Lovely. That’s just...lovely.

 

x . x . x . x . x

 

“Who are you having eavesdrop this time?”

 

“Not sure. Today didn’t go over well either. Although it could’ve been worse I suppose.”

 

“Yes, it could have. You’re flowers just said that you’re being insincere. It could’ve been much worse.”

 

There was a pregnant pause through the dorm room. “Git.”

 

x . x . x . x . x

 

The package was much smaller and Neville stared at it warily as Hermione nudged him. 

 

“Well, go on. Open it!” 

 

He carefully untired the twine wrapped around the rustic beige paper and pulled it apart. 

 

“Oh, those are pretty.” Harry exclaimed as he leaned over the table, his face dangerously close to the small white flowers. Then he scrunched his nose up and sneezed loudly, yanking his face away quickly. “Sorry. Oh Merlin, what are they?!”

 

“They’re an herb called Meadowsweet. They flowers are beautiful, but they’re actually quite useful.” Hermione’s voice had slipped into what Ron and Harry called ‘lecture mode’ and the boys grinned at her indulgently.

 

Neville stroked a finger down one of them gently. “They’re a Muggle herb, right Hermione?” She nodded. “I wonder if I could figure a way to use them magically. Or maybe crossbreed them…?”

 

“Ironic that you’re thinking that way.” The others looked at Ron quizzically. “Well, they mean uselessness.”

 

x . x . x . x . x

 

“Bloody fucking hell, mate! This is hopeless! I just want to send the man some flowers and get him to like me without actually, ya know, know it’s me!”

 

“That seems like a convoluted plan. And he is, in fact, looking for ways to utilize the plants in ways not currently being done. So mission accomplished.”

 

The dark skinned man flopped on the bed and pouted dramatically. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

 

x . x . x . x . x

 

“Wow, that is HUGE!” 

 

Neville glanced up at the now familiar owl struggling much more than ever before with an orange wrapped parcel.

 

The poor bird nearly collided with the table, panting as it glared at him with it’s baleful yellow eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry. It’s truly not my fault. I wish they would stop sending you.” Neville piled a plate with sausage and bacon and pushed the entire thing toward the owl after he untired the gaudy package from it’s legs. It hooted it’s thanks after taking a healthy swig from his pumpkin juice. 

 

“What is this monstrosity?”

 

Hermione glared at Ron as he flopped down across the table from them, nearly upsetting the owl as it ate in his quest for food.

 

“We don’t know. It just got here.”

 

“Bit late, isn’t it?” The owl glared at Ron as he continued to shovel food in his mouth uncaringly and Hermione kicked him under the table. He merely narrowed his eyes at her.

 

“Well, let’s get this over with.” Neville pulled the black ribbon and peeled away the orange paper to reveal a beautiful bouquet of orange lilies. 

 

“Oh, lilies! Like Harry’s mum.” Hermione’s voice was wispy and Neville could see unshed tears in Harry’s eyes before he turned to Ron.

 

The redhead cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Um-yeah...I don’t remember.”

 

Hermione’s eyebrows lowered over her eyes while Harry’s raised nearly to his hairline. Neville however saw the lie for what it was and stayed silent. 

 

“Oh come on, Ron. Suddenly you forget. For this of all things. Come on just tell us.” Harry badgered.

 

“I don’t-it’s just...I don’t wanna.” Ron crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to even eat as he glared at his friends around him. 

 

“Ron, what could possibly be so bad that you don’t want to tell us?” Hermione asked, honestly curiosity in her voice as she looked from Neville to Harry and back to Ron.

 

“Alright FINE! Ugh. Orange lilies mean….hatred. There, fine, you happy?!?” 

 

The four sat in stunned silence for a moment as they all contemplated the repercussions of the newest bunch of flowers before them.

 

x . x . x . x . x

 

“That’s it!”

 

“What’s it?”

 

“I’m done with this charade!”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Nothing is going how I want it to!”

 

“Well then what  _ exactly  _ would you like to do about it?”

 

x . x . x . x . x

 

“Oh, Merlin’s saggy shorts! I’m beginning to hate that owl!”

 

Hermione giggled as Neville rested his head on the table. “It’s not really the owl’s fault you know.”

 

“I know, but it’s really hard to tell myself that sometimes.” Neville waited impatiently for the ruddy owl to make its way to him. 

 

His eyes narrowed when the bird alighted before him and stuck out it’s leg and there was only a small roll of parchment attached. No bundles, no parcels, no packages. 

 

If he wasn’t so enthralled with the small roll of parchment he may have noticed the hush that had fallen over the Great Hall. He may have noticed the jaws of his friends on the other side of the table drop. He may have noticed Hermione twist in her seat and her startled gasp. 

 

He was too busy reading the small roll of parchment. 

 

_ Dear Neville, _

_ I know I’ve gone about this all wrong, and for that I apologize. You see, despite my rather outgoing personality, I am rather shy when it comes to people that I care about. And I care about you. Or rather, I care about what you think of me. So, if you would, could you kindly turn around so that I may introduce myself properly? _

 

His hands shook, making the parchment flutter and wave as if a breeze had blown through the Great Hall. His eyes lifted to see Harry and Ron , fork halfway lifted to the redhead’s mouth, something purple and gloppy dripping off the tines as he was frozen in disbelief.

 

Neville took a deep breath and braced himself to turn, to face whoever was behind him, whoever had been trying to do a nice thing, despite the negative connotations of the gifts.

 

So he turned. And it was to see the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on. All dark skin and white teeth and chocolate eyes, burning right into his.

 

“I’m sorry I’ve made such a mess of this. I sent you flowers to try to make you like me, but I didn’t know they meant things and I made a mess of it and I don’t think you’re useless or stupid and I’m not insincere and I don’t hate you-Merlin, I don’t hate you and I got you this-” at that, he shoved an odd shaped flower into Neville’s hands and backed quickly away again, “-because I thought it was pretty and it’s purple and I like purple and I thought you might too and it’s shaped like a duck, which I thought was cute and I thought you might too and-”

 

Neville held up and hand and the boy automatically fell silent. “Hi, I’m Neville. You’re Blaise right?” He nodded silently, though gulping audibly. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve loved your gifts, so thank you. And I love this little guy.”

 

Blaise let out a breath in a loud ‘whoosh’ and Neville grinned. “Would you like to join us for breakfast? We’re nearly finished, but we can make room.”

 

“I’d...I’d like that. Thanks.” Blaise settled himself in the space Hermione created as she scooted over a spot and began nibbling on a piece of buttered toast Neville handed him.

 

“Thank you.” Blaise leaned over and whispered into Neville’s ear. 

 

“For what, Duckling?” 

 

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but continued on ahead. “For not embarrassing me. I really put myself out on a limb. Draco said you would have been well within your rights to, what with how much I’ve unintentionally embarrassed you this week, which I’m still monumentally sorry for.”

 

“Well, I was under the impression that significant others forgive each other. Is that not how it works?” He pressed a quick kiss to the dark skinned boy’s cheek and threw him a quick wink. 

 

Blaise’s mouth dropped open in shock before a deep belly laugh burst out of him. “It does indeed, love. It does indeed.”

 


End file.
